Mordor Rouge
by Citoyenne Jennie Ainsley
Summary: From the insane mind that you have urged on with your praise comes a new parody. (I really think you can figure out what the parody is...) Come, read, sing along. I promise, it's Spectacular, Spectacular! Chapter One is up.


**Author's Note: I want to wish a very great thanks to the wonderful people of the "Legolas in Evening Dress" thread at Imladris.net, who inspired me to write this odd piece of parody, and have always made a grey or dreary day a bit more funny. I salute you, and may the hair on your toes never fall out. Also, a big thank-you to Jocelyn: I love bouncing ideas off of you. While I didn't make Satine the Ring OR Haldir, I thank you for all your amusing ideas. I also thank everyone who has R&R-ed my prior pieces, leaving nice little notes. I love you all! I thank Kristin who _sacrificed_ her time to watch "Moulin" with me several times… Oh, and spiffy points to anyone who can tell me why it's ironic that I cast Boromir as Audrey. And, finally, I want to thank the Academy. I know you'll give FotR all 13 awards… or else…. *mwu-ha-ha* Anywho, on with the show…**

There was a hobbit   
A very strange enchanted hobbit   
They say he wandered very far, very far   
Over land and sea   
A little shy and sad of eye   
But very wise was he   
And then one day   
One magic day he passed my way   
And while we spoke of many things   
Fools and kings   
This he said to me   
"The greatest thing you'll ever learn   
Is just to love and be loved in return" 

Mordor Rouge 

Samwise Gamgee, hobbit of the Shire had lived a relatively normal life. Comfortable living as a gardener for a Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End, he had never dreamed of the world beyond, until he heard news of Minas Tirith. It was the "place to be" for poets, of which he was one. So, he packed his things and set off. It was not as the Gaffer had described:

_"A VILLAGE OF SIN!"_

but was rather the center of poetry and beauty and the bohemian spirit. Upon arriving, he set up in a small, dilapidated building on the outskirts of the town, between Minas Tirith and the mountains of Mordor, bottom floor, of course. He tore out the last page he had written in his notebook, 

The stairways up to Cirith Ungol   
Can make the wretched sigh   
While Nazgul wings out of Mordor   
shelter you and I

determining to write something a bit more cheerful. In fact, he had come to write about Love. 

There was just one problem.

Sam had never been in love!

Fortunately, at that moment, an unconscious dwarf fell through his roof. 

_**Crash! Boom! Bang!**_

He was quickly joined by a hobbit dressed as a nun.

            "Frodo!" Sam exclaimed!

            "Samwise! Bilbo told me you were coming, how lovely to see you! Sorry about this mess."

            Frodo explained that the dwarf, Bofur by name, but in keeping with the delightful feel of the moment, we shall hereafter refer to as the Unconscious Dwarf, be he conscious or no, suffered from a disease he got from drinking some water in Mirkwood.

            "We've just been rehearsing for a play," Frodo added.

            A play! Something very modern and poetic, called "Spectacular! Spectacular!" for the Mordor Rouge, the popular dance-hall next door, as popular with Elves and Men as it was with Orcs and Uruk-Hai. But before Sam had a moment to think this over, three more heads appeared through the gaping hole in Sam's ceiling. To the Tolkien reader, we may identify them as Legolas, Gimli, and Boromir, yet to Samwise they were as yet unknown.

            "This is just wonderful!" exclaimed Boromir. "The Unconscious Dwarf will not be able to read his part, and we shall not have the scene done in time. Unless we can find someone else to stand in for the role of the Young Bohemian Goatherd."

            Before Samwise could say, "Well, bless me!" he was standing atop a ladder, in front of a backdrop, painted to look like Caradhras. There seemed to be a dispute over Boromir's lyrics, though.

            "Caradhras resonates with the horn of Gondor…"

            "I don't think a goatherd from atop Caradhras would know where Gondor was!"

            "Of course he'd know!"

            "How about: Caradhras is great, but not as lovely as Morrrrrrrria?"

            "Or Mirkwood…" chimed in the Elf, in lovely harmony.

            Amid all the shouting, Samwise blurted out a line that had just run into his head, "THE HILLS ARE ALIVE… WITH THE SOUND OF MUSIC!"

            The room went silent. 

            Suddenly, The Unconscious Dwarf leapt from the floor. 

            "The hills are alive with the sound of music?! I love it!"

            But he dropped back to the floor in but a moment.

            "I love it! Samwise, you're marvelous," Frodo exclaimed. "You and Boromir should write the show together!"

            But Boromir didn't like this suggestion too much.

            "I'M LEAVING! GOODBYE!"

            Fortunately, no one seemed to mind much, as they had other things on the mind.

            "But what do you think Gandalf will say?" chimed in a worried Elf. "No offense, but have you ever written anything like this before?"

            "No," said Sam, getting a bit worried. 

            "Nonsense, this is Sam!" exclaimed Frodo. "Gandalf will love it! It'll be perfect."

            But the worry in Sam's mind had grown, and he kept hearing the Gaffer's voice in his head:

_"You'll end up wasting your life at the Mordor Rouge with can-can dancers and things un-natural!"_

He leapt from the ladder and raced to the one in the gaping hole in the floor, leading back to his room.

            "I can't write the show! I don't even know if I am a Bohemian!"

            Audible gasps from all around.

            "Do you believe in freedom?" from the Semi-Conscious Dwarf.

            "Yes."

            "Beauty?" from the Elf, brushing his long, blonde hair.

            "Yes."

            "Truth?" from the Master Dwarf.

            "Yes."

            "Love?" from Frodo. Sam paused a moment in earnest.

            "Above all things, I believe in love. Love is like elevensies! Love lifts us up where we belong! All you need is love!"

            "YOU CAN'T FOOL US!" screamed the group as they pulled him back up into the room. Quickly they concocted a plan. They would take Sam, disguised as a prestigious hobbit-writer, and let him recite some of his poetry to Rosie, the Star of the Mordor Rouge. She would be so taken with his poetry, that she would insist to Gandalf the Grey (the Ring-leader of the MR) that he write the show. The plan in place, Samwise's clothes were changed, and he had his first inhale of… Longbottom Leaf.

            _**I AM OLD TOBY…**_

They were off to the Mordor Rouge, and Sam was to recite his poetry for Rosie…

* * * * *

            The Mordor Rouge had been set up, not too long before but long enough to be considered 'long ago', in North Ithilien; while technically not "in" Mordor, it was under protection from the powers of darkness that abided therein. Long ago (Again, "long" referring to a period when perhaps you were alive, but who I am to say for certain), Gandalf the Grey had parleyed with Melkor, and the Mordor Rouge was set up as a nightclub for all to come and enjoy, without threat of invasion or death. (Although, if a few Elves never returned home and an Orc seemed several years later to look much like him, who was Melkor to say anything?) Elves, Men, Dwarves, Orcs, Uruk-Hai, Ring-wraiths, Cave Trolls, all came to feast on the pleasures of the dancing and the wine. Even Melkor made an appearance from time to time. In fact, there is he over there at that table. Wave hello!

            Sam, Frodo, Legolas, Gimli, and the Unconscious Dwarf entered and took a seat in the corner, in time for a number by the Rouge's favorite group: Haldir and Company. (With special appearance by Legolas) 

  
Haldir:

She met the Witch-King down by old Mordor Rouge

Strutting his stuff by her King

She said, "Hello, hey Joe.

You wanna give it a go?"

Chorus:

Gilthoni - oni ya ya da da   
Galenas manas ya ya hee  
Mithril spithril na na ya ya   
Courageous Lady Eowyn

   
Erian makla, firo! Grunger! (translation: (I) raise (the) sword, you fade/die! (You) Fear!)  
Erian makla, firo!   
 

Legolas:  
He did major damage while she rode up   
Boy killed all those courageous men   
But on the Pelennor Fields   
Is where he started to freak, yeah   
Chorus   
  


Eowyn:   
Yeah, yeah, aw   
He came through with the Nazgul and the filthy Orcs   
Let us know he took the city, straight from the gate   
Us independent women, some think we should be bored   
I'm saying, why kill my enemies when I can kill yours   
Disagree, well that's you and I'm sorry   
I'm keep battling these Orcs out like Narsil-i   
Wear high heeled boots, getting love from the dudes   
Us high-strung chicks from the Mordor Rouge   
  


Hey sisters, soul sisters   
Betta get that Orc sisters

   
We drink wine with elfstones in the glass   
By the case, the meaning of expensive taste   
We wanna galenas manas ya ya   
Mithril spifril na na  
Courageous Lady Eowyn   
One more time, come on   
Eowyn (ooh)   
Lady Eowyn (ooh yeah) 

Eowyn (ohh)   
  


Rumil:   
Hey, hey, hey   
Touch of her sword cutting sharp and hard, oh   
Stabbing into his neck, all right   
Made the savage beast inside   
Roar until he cried   
"No, No, Noooooo!"   
  


Orophin:   
Now he's back home under Morgoth's eye (Morgoth's eye)   
Rumil:   
Living a nasty after-life   
Haldir:   
But when he turns off to sleep, memories creep   
No, No, Nooooo!   
  


Repeat Chorus 

  
Erian makla, firo! Grunger! (Grunger!)   
Erian makla, firo!   
Oh my sisters   
Erian makla, firo! Grunger! (Grunger!)   
Erian makla, firo!  
All:   
Courageous Lady Eowyn  
Ohh, yes, ah

            Sam wasn't entirely certain what to make of this, but the lights, the colors, the wine, the leaf, all of it made him delirious, until the lights faded and the room silenced. From the ceiling dropped a swing, atop it sat the most beautiful hobbit Sam had ever seen. Frodo whispered in his ear, "It's her… the Sparking Rosebud…"

            But someone else was to meet Rosie that night. The Dark-Lord.

   
Rosie:   
The Elves can only die from love   
They delight in fighting duels   
But I prefer a man who lives   
And gives expensive jewels.

An elfstone in the hand may be quite continental   
But sim'rils are a girl's best friend.   
A kiss may be grand but it won't be so gentle   
When the Orcs attack, or help you get those -Rrrrr- wraiths off your back.   
Men grow cold as Elves grow old   
And we all lose our charms in the end.   
But square-cut or pear-shaped   
These rocks don't lose their shape   
Sim'rils are a girl's best friend   
  


The Dark-Lord Sauron and Gandalf the Grey sat at a table back-to-back with Sam and his new friends.

"When am I going to meet this hobbit?" 

"After her song, I've arranged a private meeting. Just you and Miss Cotton. Totally alone."

Rosie:

Finwe!

While back at Sam's table, Frodo whispered in his ear, "I've arranged a meeting for you and Rosie! Totally alone!"

Sam, a bit nervous (he'd never even held a girl's hand, much less been alone in a room with one), exclaimed, "ALONE?!"

"Yes," said both Frodo and Gandalf, in wonderful union, "totally alone…"

Rosie:  
Feanor!   
  


Haldir & Co.:   
Cause we are living in a material earth   
And I am a material elf  
  


Rosie:   
Come and get me boys   
Woo

Gandalf excused himself from the Dark-Lord's side, to go join in the dance number. 

Rosie:  
Laurelin, Telperion   
Talk to me Gandalf the Grey, tell me all about it!   
   
There may come a time when a man finds you quite dear   
  


Haldir & Co.:   
But sim'rils are a girl's best friend.   
  


Rosie:   
There may come a time when a revengeful mortal thinks you're…   
  


Gandalf:   
Awful nice   
  


Rosie:   
But get that ice or else no dice.   
  


            "Is the Dark-Lord here, Gandalf?"

            "Yes, my dear little hobbit."

            "Where?"

            "Let me check…"

            He looked over in time to see Frodo accidentally spill a drink all over the Dark-Lord's armor. He pulled out his pocket handkerchief immediately, glad that he hadn't left home without one.

            "He's the one Baggins is shaking a hanky at."

            Rosie turned around, only in time to see Frodo lean over to steal Sam's. Confusion flooded her instantly. I mean, admit it. You wouldn't think Samwise Gamgee was a Dark-Lord, would you?

            "Are you sure?"

            "Hmm… let me have a peak."

            Gandalf turned around to spy that, yes, Frodo was now mopping up Sauron with Sam's handkerchief.

Haldir & Co.:   
He's your guy when enemy troops ain't nigh  
But beware when they start to descend   
Sim'rils are a girl's best   
Sim'rils are a girl's best   
Sim'rils are a girl's best…friend   
  


            Gandalf and Rosie ducked beneath the swirling skirts of Haldir's ensemble, and Rosie smoothed her mopsy curls.

            "Do you think he'll let us move the theater?"

            "Dear Rosie! With you coaxing and flirting, how could he not? Remember, Middle-Earth is counting on you. We'll have the theater set up at the base of Mount Doom, and you'll…"

            "Rid the Earth of that blasted Ring forever…"

Rosie:

Cause that when those morons

Go back to their Saurons

   
Rosie and Haldir & Co.:   
Sim'rils are a girl's best   
Sim'rils are a girl's best  
Sim'rils are a girl's best  
  


Rosie:   
Friend

            The last note of her number found Rosie by Sam's table, offering her hand to the bewildered young hobbit.

            "I believe you were expecting me."

            "Yes…" was all he could stammer out.

            Rosie turned back to the crowd.

            "I'm afraid it's hobbit-lass' choice."

            Sam, a little dense, didn't quite get what she meant by this, until Frodo elbowed him.

            "Go on, Sam. Ask Rosie for a dance."

            "Uh… uh… I think I'll just have another ale."

            "Oh, no you don't!" exclaimed Rosie, pulling Sam onto the dance floor as another number began.

Haldir:   
 And it's called the Mordor Rouge   
  


Haldir & Co.:   
To the beat of the rhythm of the night   
Forget about the worries on your mind (on your mind)   
To the beat of the rhythm of the night   
Forget about the worries on your mind   
When it feels like   
Middle-Earth is on your shoulders   
and all of the madness   
has got you goin' crazy   
It's time to get out   
step out into the street   
Where all of the action   
is right there at your feet well.   
I know a place where we can   
dance the whole night away   
and it's called the Mordor Rouge   
Just come with me and we can   
shake your blues right away   
You'll be doin fine once the music starts...Oh!   
Chorus:   
To the beat of the rhythm of the night   
dance until the morning light   
Forget about the worries on your mind   
we can leave them all behind   
To the beat of the rhythm of the night..   
oohh the rhythm of the night..   
Forget about the worries on your mind   
we can leave them all behind   
ooohh yeah   
 And it's called the Moulin Rouge!

Rosie bid Sam a farewell, and once more ascended her swing.

Rosie:

Sim'rils…

Sim'rils…

Square-cut or pear-shape these rocks won't lose their shape.

Sim'rils are a girl's…

Best…

            But before the last word could be uttered, Rosie let out a deep gasp and fell from her chair, into the arms of Glorfindel the Elf. (Hey, I had to get him in here somewhere) She was escorted backstage, while Haldir & Co. struck up a new song. 

            Backstage…

            "Are you sure you're alright, child?"

            "I'm fine, Ioreth."

            "Well, you sure worked your magic with that Dark-Lord. If he let us move the show to the base of Mount Doom, you could actually get a chance to destroy that blasted…"

            "Is everything alright, Rosie?!" exclaimed Gandalf, racing in.

            "I'm fine, Gandalf!" Rosie exclaimed. "Everything's fine."

            "Everything's going so well!"

* * * * *

  
            "Isn't this a lovely place for a _poetry_ reading?" asked Rosie, as she walked in, her bodice loosened and her skirt hiked up _above_ the knee. Sam averted his eyes, turning beet red. He muttered something unintelligible. 

            "Would you like some wine, perhaps?"

            "Actually, I'd just like to get it over with," he blurted out.

            "Oh… very well. Well, would you like to come over here and we'll _get it over with_?"

            "I prefer to do it standing," he said again, trying to keep his eyes ANYWHERE else. "Oh, you don't have to stand!" he added, noticing her getting up, and quickly turning his eyes to the floor. "It's just that I want you to be comfortable," he added quickly. "It quite modern what I do, but I think if have an open mind, you might like it."

            Rosie, a bit perturbed by the fact that this Dark-Lord was a hobbit and seemed quite insistent on avoiding eye-contact. "I'm sure I will."

"It's a little bit funny this feeling inside,   
I'm not one of those who can easily hide   
I don't have much money but boy if I did   
I'd buy a big hobbit hole where we both could live.  
  
If I was a sculptor, but then again, no   
Or a man who makes potions in a traveling show…"

He realized that Rosie was giving him an odd stare. Well, when was the last time you saw a short, furry-footed Dark-Lord that actually recites poetry? A bit flustered, he pressed onward.  
            "I know it's not much but it's the best I can do…"

And, as one can only do in musicals and parodies, he burst into song:   
  


Sam:   
My gift is my song and this one's for you   
And you can tell everybody that this is your song   
It maybe quite simple but now that it's done   
Hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind   
That I put down in words, how wonderful life is   
Now you're in the world   
I sat on the roof and I kicked off the moss   
Well some of these verses well they, they got me quite cross   
But the sun's been quite kind while I wrote this song   
It's for people like you that keep it turned on.   
So excuse my forgetting, but these things I do   
You see I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue   
Anyway the thing is - what I really mean   
Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen   
  


And, in a moment that Fred and Ginger would've envied, had Fred and Ginger ever lived in Middle-Earth, the two went swirling through the air, dancing amidst the stars, Elendil and Elbereth singing along as back-up.

  
Sam:   
And you can tell everybody this is your song   
It may be quite simply but now that it's done   
I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind   
That I put down in words   
How wonderful life is now you're in the world   
I hope you don't mind   
I hope you don't mind that I put down in words   
How wonderful life is now you're in the world

            "I can't believe it," whispered Rosie, as the two set back down in Rosie's boudoir. "I'm in love. With a talented, rich, handsome, Dark-Lord."

            "Dark-Lord?" Sam whispered back, a little confused as to why they were whispering, but not questioning why, as he was in utter ecstasy that such a lovely hobbit lass was actually in his arms.

            "Oh, not that the title matters," Rosie added quickly.

            "I'm not a Dark-Lord," Sam whispered back.

            "What?"

            "I'm a poet," he laughed. 

            "A POET?!" Rosie shot back, jumping from his arms. "Oh no. You're not one of Frodo's oh-so-talented, tragically impoverished writers, are you?"

            "You might say that."

            "OH NOOOOO!"

Frodo and the group had been peeking in from the window, and realized their cue to exit with an "uh-oh".

"We have to get you out of here," Rosie exclaimed, leading him to the door, only to see on the other side, "THE DARK-LORD! Hide!"

She shooed him beneath her bed, before turning to greet:

"Gandalf! What a pleasant surprise!"

"My dear, are you decent for the Dark-Lord."

"Of course!"

Sauron was already within the room, and bowed, taking off his kitchen-utensil helmet to kiss her hand. Whether he was planning to woo her by showing its double-sided skill at shielding blows to the head and toasting bread, this parody does not say. 

Gandalf left the room. 

"How lovely of you to take an interest in our little show," Rosie said, coquettishly batting her eyelashes. Sam, beneath the bed, stifled a sneeze. Rosie really should've learned: you do not dust a room by shoving it all under the bed. But, growing up with only older brothers… 

"Of course, my dear. Now, would you like to see something truly amazing I can do with my helmet…?" he pursed his lips seductively. 

From beneath the bed, Samwise let out a massive sneeze. 

"What was that?" Sauron asked, jumping back in alarm and dropping the beloved helmet. Rosie jumped.

"Err… that was me. You see, m'dear Dark-Lord, I really have a nasty cold. And I really shouldn't wish to infect you. You being so powerful and mighty and all. I really think you should leave before I get you sick as well."

"But I just got here!" 

But he was already shoved out the door, and Sam had risen from beneath the bed. 

"Do you have ANY idea what would've happened, if he had found you here?" she asked, before swooning into his arms. Sam, ever the heroic type, very nearly dropped her.

"Umm… right…" he thought, holding her a moment, before pulling her over towards the bed. Always the one for wonderful timing, the Dark-Lord poked his head back in the door. 

"I forgot my helmet…" then gasped aloud. "FOUL PLAY?!"

"Oh, m'dear Dark-Lord," Rosie exclaimed, awaking from her swoon. "I'd like you to meet the writer of the play."

"The writer?!"

"Well, we have so much to do and seeing you just filled me with such inspiration, that I called the group together for an emergency rehearsal."

Sauron looked less than convinced. Sam tried to blend into the wall-paper. 

"You expect me to believe that at this hour of the night, alone, you were rehearsing?"

"SO! How's the rehearsal coming?" shouted out Frodo, racing in from the window with Legolas, Gimli, and the Unconscious Dwarf. 

"You wouldn't happen to have a hairbrush, would you?" Legolas asked. Rosie pointed him in the right direction. 

            "If you're rehersing, where's Gandalf?" Sauron asked, rather smugly. 

            "My good Dark-Lord!" Gandalf exclaimed, racing into the room. "I'm so very sorry about all this."

            "Gandalf, good, you made it for the EMERGENCY REHERSAL! The writer of the play… er…"

            After an elbow in the ribs from Frodo, Sam blurted out, "Samwise!"

            "is here, and the Dark-Lord is already a fan of his work."

            "I am?" asked the Dark-Lord, not the least put-out that the author accidentally skipped over that part. 

            "Yes, you are!" exclaimed Rosie, saving my rear. "That's why he's so eager to have the show performed in Mordor!"

            "Lovely!" exclaimed Gandalf, grabbing Sauron by the shoulder. "Come to my office, and we'll fix up all the paper-work."

            "What's the show about?"

            The room went silent. 

            Samwise was the one to break the silence.

            "It's about love! Love overcoming all obstacles."

            "And it's set on Caradhras!" shouted out Frodo, trying to help. Seeing, however, the Dark-Lord's disapproving grimace, Sam jumped in.          
            "It's set in Mordor! And, there's this dancer. The most beautiful dancer in all the world. But her kingdom is invaded by an evil… Orc-captain! Now, in order to save her people, the dancer must seduce the Orc-captain. But, on the night of the seduction, she mistakes a simple…er, farmer for the Orc-captain! He wasn't trying to trick her or anything. It's just that he was disguised as an Orc-captain because he was in a play."

            "I play the handsome, rugged, singing Farmer!" declared Bofur, grabbing up his chance to the play the lead. 

            "The farmer's favorite axe is magical: it only speaks the truth," declared Legolas, grabbing up Gimli's axe. 

            Frodo snatched it from Legolas. "I play the magical axe!" He turned to face Rosie. "You are very beautiful." He turned to face Bofur. "You are very fat." He turned to Sauron. "And you are very…" The others muffled whatever his words were going to be.

            "And he gives the game away, right?" Sauron asks, catching on.

            The others agree, wholeheartedly.  

            Gandalf grabbed Sauron by the hand and led him to a nearby chair as they began to burst into song. 

Gandalf:   
Spectacular, Spectacular   
No words in the vernacular   
Can describe this great event   
You'll be dumb with wonderment   
Returns are fixed at ten percent   
You must agree, that's excellent   
And on top of your fee   
  


All:   
You'll be involved artistically   
  


So exciting   
The audience will stop and cheer   
So delighting   
It will run for fifty years   
So exciting   
The audience will stop and cheer   
So delighting   
It will run for fifty years   
  


Various:   
Oliphants!   
Mordorians!   
Orodruin!   
and courtesans!   
Acrobats!   
and juggling trolls!   
Exotic Orcs!   
Blasting Fire!   
Musclemen and contortionists   
Intrigue, danger, and romance   
Electric lights, machinery   
Oh the electricity!   
  


So exciting   
The audience will stop and cheer   
So delighting   
It will run for fifty years   
So exciting   
The audience will stop and cheer   
So delighting   
It will run for fifty years

   
Spectacular, Spectacular   
No words in the vernacular   
Can describe this great event   
You'll be dumb with wonderment 

Caradhras is alive, with the sound of music 

So exciting   
The audience will stop and cheer   
So delighting   
It will run for fifty years   
So exciting   
The audience will stop and cheer   
So delighting   
It will run for fifty years   
  


Sauron:   
"Yes, but what happens in the end?"   
  


Sam:   
The dancer-girl and farmer-man   
are pulled apart by an evil plan   
  


Rosie:   
But in the end she hears his song   
  


Sam:   
And their love is just too strong   
  


Sauron:   
It's a little bit funny   
this feeling inside   
  


All:   
So exciting   
The audience will stop and cheer   
So delighting   
It will run for fifty years   
  


Sam:   
The farmer and his secret song   
helps to flee the evil one   
Though the tyrant rants and rails   
It is all to no avail.   
  


Gandalf:   
I am the evil Orc-Captain   
You will not escape.  
  


Rosie:   
Oh Gandalf, no one could play him like you could!   
  


Gandalf:   
No one's going to.   
  


All:   
So exciting   
Will make them laugh, will make them cry   
So delighting   
  


Sauron:   
And in the end should someone die?   
  


All:   
So exciting   
The audience will stop and cheer   
So delighting   
It will run for fifty years   
  


After posing rather elaborately, the Fellowship stared at Sauron in silence. He considered it a moment, then responded, "Generally, I like it."


End file.
